tales of Suchita

Once a year you come like clockwork
Leaving me stranded, confused, anchor-less
Feeling all feelings of loathing, hatred and anger
Which further blocks the channel of creation.

Once a year you come to remind me
That writing is harder than I had made it out to be
That it is better to give up now then later
And save yourself the heartbreak of failure.

Every year you visit me, my downward spiral
Giving me poignant reasons for why I must quit
Taking away that fragile hope, confidence and dream
Making it into a fantasy that I so adore to read.

If only I could shake you off as easily as I shake off praise,
If only you served a higher purpose than making me question
Everything I have pushed and pulled to build
If only you wouldn’t so gleefully leave havoc in your wake
I would welcome you, my yearly visitor of ‘you are a nobody.’

I do not know if I must build defenses against you too
Or simply accept that you exist and find ways to fight
To go on, to endure, to suffer, to let go
Or just do what I do and let you take me under
As books, others’ creation, movies and TV
Provide the necessary escape, the life giving oxygen
And surface only once you have let me go
To take stock and continue on as if you hadn’t just
Razed everything asunder.